A Worthy Opponent
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Lettuce and Pai's rapport shows on and off the battlefield. A collection of oneshots.
1. A Worthy Opponent

A Worthy Opponent

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Tokyo Mew Mew

Copyright: Reiko Yoshida, Mia Ikumi

Lettuce and Pai circled each other warily in mid-air, trading kicks and blows, dodging, Lettuce's long braid flying like a whip as she spun. The tall young man with the pointed ears and dusk-purple eyes and the girl in the green swimsuit and boots.

"You are inattentive, Mew Lettuce," said Pai, throwing a ball of electric yellow energy which knocked her several feet away. "Watch my arms and legs, not my face! Always be alert!"

In the moonlight, the bare white skin of his muscular arms glowed like marble.

She flew back and aimed a sharp kick at his stomach, which he barely dodged.

"Why instruct me, Pai-san? - Doesn't that make it harder?"

He deflected her punch by closing a large, hot hand around her wrist. "Why don't you fear me?"

His eyes burned into her green ones for a moment as they held each other immobilized.

"Because you could have killed me by now," said Lettuce, her soft voice breathless. "And you haven't."

The Mew mark glowed on the spot just above the cleavage of her suit.

A stamp from her double-pointed boot on the instep of his foot made him curse and let her go.

"Watch my _castanets_, Pai-san! _Ribbon Lettuce Rush!_"

"_Fuu Rai Sen!" _

The lightning bolt and water jet collided in mid-air, exploding them apart. Yet when the force cleared and they could open their eyes, Pai noticed that the green-haired girl was smiling.


	2. Spanish Lady

Spanish Lady

Pai, nothing if not thorough, had run into something of a puzzle. While collecting data on the Mew Mew team, he had even researched the objects they used as weapons in Earth's database and, while only one of them was actually meant to be used as a weapon, all of them were reasonably appropriate concerning their purpose and the character of their bearers.

_Cross: a religious symbol. Whip: an item used in former eras to punish criminals and slaves._ That would certainly suit the formidable Mew Zakuro.

_Arrow: a projectile weapon equipped with bird feathers to increase its speed. _Swift, elegant, and sharp, just like the little lorikeet Mew. Not to be underestimated.

_Tambourine: a percussion instrument._ The Pudding Ring was perfect for a noisy child.

_Heart. The organ pumping blood through the veins of the human body. As a symbol, it denotes love. _Pai asked himself wryly if Kish knew what his 'toy's' weapon represented. The younger man would probably come up with a dozen inappropriate jokes.

But how in Deep Blue's name had Mew Lettuce wound up with a pair of castanets?

_Castanets. Percussion instruments used in the Mediterranean version of the continent Europe, traditionally accompanying the _flamenco_ dance._

The image Pai came up with on his computer was of a brown-skinned, black-haired human female, with a red rose behind her ear, her frilly skirt swirling provocatively as a pair of castanets rattled in her hands. She looked about as unlike Mew Lettuce as one could imagine.

"_Darn_ it!"

Kish's irritable squawk made Pai close his screen automatically. He turned around to meet his comrade's scowl with one of his own.

"Let me guess – your mission was a failure."

"Oh, shut up!" Kish floated on top of one of the unbroken columns in their space and propped his chin up in his hands. "It would've worked. It _should've_ worked. It was the fish girl, you know, the mousy one?"

"Mew _Lettuce_."

"Whatever. My puppetmaster Chimera had'em all tied up, right, just like five juicy flies in a spiderweb. And then what did Miss Fish Scales do? She launched a jet of water from those clacky things of hers and melted all the webs! They work as long as her fingers can move, she says. Next time I'll chop her fingers off with my swords, eh, Pai! Whaddaya say to that?"

_You will do no such thing,_ was Pai's first thought, so vehement that it surprised even him. Why should he care? She was his enemy.

"I have a theory," he found himself saying instead.

"Another one?"

"I believe the Mew Mews' weapons reflect their characters as well as channeling their powers. Only those who are aggressive by nature – Mews Mint and Zakuro – bear overtly weaponlike objects, namely the bow and arrow and the whip. The other three, being more agreeable, bear musical instruments – or in Mew Ichigo's case, a symmetrical shape."

"I always knew my kitten was special," said Kish, smirking. I don't need you to tell me that."

What Pai did not say was that Kish's account had given him a new idea. It was completely useless as far as the war was concerned, so he would to better to keep it to himself.

_They work as long as her fingers can move._ Mew Lettuce did not need room to swing a whip, shoot an arrow or aim a blast of power from that heart-shaped whatever-it-was. She was a modest being whose strength showed itself in unlikely places.

And perhaps, somewhere deep inside her heart, there _was_ a bold and beautiful dancer waiting to come out.


	3. The Stranger and the Doll

The Stranger and the Doll

"Mommy, look at the dolls!"

"Aww, cute!"

"My dear, did you make these all by yourself?"

"Can I get two? Wait, three!"

Lettuce's head spun as the customers at the local charity drive flocked around the Café Mew Mew table to buy her handmade dolls. Children coaxing their mothers to buy them gifts, flocks of giggling girls of Lettuce's own age, grandparents beaming with approval ("How nice to see a young lady with a gift for craftsmanship!") – it was all quite overwhelming.

In reality, she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. All this – the sunny day, the eager crowd, Pudding's acrobatic stunts and the smell of coffee and fresh pastries from Keiichiro's baker's cart – felt too good to be true for a girl like her. And just as she was thinking this, the other shoe did drop.

"Excuse me," she said, seeing a girl slip a doll into the pocket of her beige cardigan. "The cash register's over here."

The girl turned, her face darkened as the sun was behind her. Lettuce recognized her anyway. That butterscotch-colored hair, its edges looking sharp enough to cut. That sneering mouth. Those slitted eyes.

"My, my," she said, taking the doll out again. "If it isn't my old friend."

She held up the doll (a smiling woman with green hair and pointed ears) by its hand with two fingers, like something dirty. "Plushies, Midorikawa? I knew you were immature, but this is going a bit far, don't you think?"

Lettuce looked around for her coworkers out of the corner of her eye. Pudding was entertaining the crowd (and sponging tips off them like an expert); Mint was still seething because no one wanted to buy her ten-million-yen Russian cabinet; Ichigo was helping Keiichiro sell cakes and Zakuro, who had a photoshoot, was absent altogether.

Lettuce squared her shoulders and looked her classmate in the eye, trying to ignore the frantic, rabbitlike pounding of her heart.

"If you want to buy this, it's a hundred yen," she said, with determined courtesy. "Otherwise, kindly put it back for the other customers."

The other girl dangled the doll within reach of Lettuce's hand, then snatched it back. "And what if I don't? What if I take it free, for old friendship's sake?"

Lettuce found her fear turning to fury. She had been under the thumb of this girl and her cronies since her freshman year at junior high. She had done their homework, carried their bookbags, paid for their endless coffees and ice cream, all in the pathetic hope of being accepted as their 'friend'. After she had broken contact with them, they had stolen her money, pushed her around, insulted her and once – unsuccessfully – tried to frame her for smoking on the school grounds. Luckily, no teacher had believed that prim little Midorikawa would do such a thing. She'd had enough.

"If you do that," she said, gesturing toward Keiichiro with her head, "My employer will have you arrested."

The sight of Keiichiro with his glossy brown ponytail, handing out sweets with his most charming demeanor, temporarily reduced Lettuce's tormentor to a puddle of goo. Keiichiro had that effect on females; he had, in fact, deliberately used it to get Lettuce out of trouble with this girl once before.

"Y-y-your _employer_?"

"Indeed."

At that moment, taking advantage of the other girl's impaired state, a shadowy, black-clad figure snatched the doll out of her hand and held it out to Lettuce.

"Despicable," said the stranger.

"Sir … ?" Lettuce took back the doll, smoothed its green dress and yarn hair, and placed it back onto the table with shaky hands.

"Remove yourself, small-minded creature, before I remove you."

With a squeak of terror, Lettuce's former tormentor fled the scene.

The stranger was a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed all in black leather, his face half hidden behind sunglasses and a black cap. A straight nose, pointed chin and thin lips were all that was visible. The hands which had touched the doll were gloved as well.

"Are you a police officer, sir?" asked Lettuce.

"You might say that."

The stranger looked down at the dolls, pointing to the one he had just rescued. "An original design, young lady. How did you come by it?"

Lettuce flinched mentally. She had been asked that question very often by now. If only people knew how unoriginal her dolls really were – all she did was imitate the Mew Mews, the aliens, and/or herself. This particular doll was the result of a moment's whimsy: _What would _I_ look like as an alien?_

While making it, she had thought of the information little Masha had brought back from his captivity, the fact that the so-called 'aliens' had actually originated on Earth. While creating a doll with her own hair and eyes and their white skin, pointed ears and beribboned clothes, she had imagined herself growing up in a faraway snowscape, living on the hope of green Earth. Would she have joined the invasion force as well? Would she have become stern and cold like Pai, or vicious like Kish?

She preferred to think she would be like Pai. Of the three aliens, he seemed by far the most intelligent, and also the most reasonable. He did not cackle and gloat like the other two; he seemed to regard their battles as a harsh but necessary duty, rather than a game of pain.

To answer the stranger's question, she said: "The idea was suggested by … a certain gentleman I know."

The stranger nodded, picked up the doll, and took out five hundred yen from his jacket pocket.

"Uh, sir … the sign says one hundred."

"Keep the change. Your creation reminds me of a certain lady I know."

He walked away, leaving the pile of banknotes on the counter. Lettuce stashed them away in the cash register and was distracted by the next customers in line, a mother and three daughters who couldn't seem to make up their minds. When she looked up, the stranger was nowhere to be seen – he might as well have vanished into thin air.

Vanished … ?

A momentary panic seized her. His voice was familiar. And she _did_ know people who could vanish into thin air. _Good heavens. I made that doll with my own hands, it's got DNA traces all over it! If that was Pai-san, who knows what he could … _

_Stop that,_ her logical side interrupted. _You're jumping to conclusions. There are plenty of pale-complexioned men around. Maybe he's an albino. Besides, if Pai-san wanted samples of our DNA, with his cunning, he'd get it without us knowing. _Which was an alarming thought in itself.

She remembered his words about 'foolish humans'. If he despised their kind so much, he would never walk among them or give money for the work of human hands.

At any rate, it was odd. While Lettuce's own classmate had victimized her for years, the stranger, for all that his demeanor was enough to frighten anyone, had made her feel perfectly safe.


	4. In A Different Era

In A Different Era

Lady Bucksworth's ballroom was absolutely packed. Men in tight breeches and black tailcoats or red uniforms and ladies in long, empire-waisted gowns of every color moved across the floor in two long lines, turning, intersecting, and walking complicated patterns to the rhythm of the orchestra in the corner. Chaperones and partnerless people, mostly women, occupied the chairs along the walls, fanning themselves and chatting.

"Come now, my dear fellow," said one guest at the corner of the room, "You haven't danced a single dance! What did you come here for, if not to stand up with as many charming young ladies as possible?"

Peter Sardon looked down from his formidable height and replied: "I only came here to prevent _you_, Charles, from badgering me further on the subject. And let me remind you that I have danced precisely twice – with my sister-in-law, as courtesy demands."

He motioned toward their youngest brother Terrence and his new wife Penny, dancing as enthusiastically as they had once played tag in their childhood years.

"Oh, that doesn't count!" A dark green curl fell into Charles's face as he waved away his older brother's protest. "Dancing should be an act of courtship – for instance, once I find the delectable Kitty O'Malley in this mob – " He craned his neck trying to look above the crowds, "I shall write my name on every line of her dance card."

"You waste your time there, little brother," said Peter, in what felt like the hundredth repetition.

"Why, there she is!" Charles crowed, spotting a pink-and-red figure at the opposite end of the room. "And look, she's even brought a spare along for you. Sister of hers. A dreadful bluestocking, I hear, but then you like that sort of thing, don't you? Providential, wouldn't you say?" He grabbed Peter's arm and began towing him along; at the risk of looking undignified and making a public scene, Peter had to follow.

"I highly doubt that the lady was brought here for the express purpose of dancing with me," he pointed out as they edged and jostled their way through the crowd.

"Will you never learn to take a joke, man?" Charles grumbled.

"Besides," Peter continued, saying the first thing that came into his mind, "That other Miss O'Malley is too plain to interest me."

Next to the famous Kitty O'Malley, who looked as 'delectable' as Charles described her with her flaming red curls, creamy skin, and a pink silk gown which showed off all the advantages of her figure, her sister did look rather plain. Her dress was a pale beige, and she sat with her eyes downcast and her shoulders lowered, as if afraid of being noticed.

It was nothing short of a diabolical coincidence that, the moment Peter labeled her 'too plain to interest me', the music stopped, and his words fell right into the silence.

Miss O'Malley looked up. Their eyes met. Bright colour flamed on her cheeks and across her entire face, proving to Peter that firstly, she was every bit as attractive as Kitty; and secondly, she was deeply and justifiably hurt.

_Blast,_ thought Peter.

The oblivious Charles continued ushering him through the room, until eventually they arrived right in front of the young ladies' chairs.

"My _dear_ Miss Kitty," said Charles, bowing flamboyantly. "How lovely you look tonight! Won't you favor me with the privilege of your hand for the next dance?"

Miss Kitty shook her head, beaming. "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir. I've already promised it to Lord Bluecastle."

As if on cue, a sleek, black-haired gentleman in a blue velvet coat came up to Miss Kitty and bowed. She giggled, tossed her hair acros her bare shoulder, and clung to his arm in undisguised bliss.

Charles glowered after them, muttering invectives which Peter pretended not to hear. Instead he nudged the younger man with his elbow, prompting him not to forget that they were in public.

"Ah. Right. Er, Miss Bridget O'Malley, allow me to present Peter Sardon, my eldest brother and a most confounded nuisance. Excuse me. I need a drink." And with that, he disappeared.

Peter found himself alone, so to speak, with the lady he had offended. They sized each other up, silently; he saw a girl with green hair, the color of pine needles, in two braids pinned up on her head like a crown. Her eyes were the widest, bluest eyes he'd ever seen, rather startling in an otherwise unremarkable face. Much to his discomfort, he could not think of a single thing to say.

She saw a tall, stern-faced young man, his mauve hair cut unfashionably short, whose body hinted that he would be much more at home on a horse than a dance floor. His eyes were such a deep purple as to be almost black. She found it hard to look away.

"Is there something on my face, Miss O'Malley?" he asked in a low, elegant voice.

Bridget found herself in great danger of melting into a puddle. Instead she stood up and glared at him with all the fury she could muster. They were nearly of the same height.

"You are staring at me as well, Mr. Sardon. Am I so grotesque that you cannot tear your eyes away?"

At that, he finally lowered those dark eyes and she could breathe. "As to that, I owe you my apology. I did not mean for you to overhear that remark."

"And if I had not heard it, would that make it right?"

Mr. Sardon sighed and shook his head. "No. I should not have said it, regardless listeners."

Her victory left her slightly dizzy. She would have expected him to argue a bit more.

"If you must know," Mr. Sardon said abruptly, "I said the first thing I could think of to distract my brother."

The long-suffering tone of his voice made her smile, in spite of herself. "I know what you mean. Kitty has been dragging up men of all shapes and sizes to introduce to me all evening."

"Your sister is very popular." He said it with no inflection whatsoever in his voice.

"What are you implying, sir?"

"Only that I hope she does not encourage Charles in his attentions. I would not wish to see him … disappointed."

"Your brother, with all due respect, is a rake!" Bridget snapped. "His _attentions_ to my sister have been most unwelcome, and we should be glad to see them end!"

Mr. Sardon's face closed like a shutter. He drew himself up, looking more formidable than ever. "I am glad we understand one another."

He turned to leave.

Bridget was never sure, afterwards, what prompted her to call him back. Perhaps it was her natural love of harmony, which in spite of her anger prevented her from hurting even an obnoxious stranger. Perhaps it was the sheer excitement of the moment, so unfamiliar to her prim and sheltered existence – sparring verbally with a handsome gentlemen without a hint of her usual timidity. She did not want it to end.

"Mr. Sardon?"

"Yes, Miss O'Malley?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Forgive me," she said, holding out one hand in a gesture of reconciliation. "What I meant was – Kitty is set in her choice. Lord Bluecastle is the only man for her, and there can be no doubt that his feelings are mutual. We expect him to speak to my father any day now."

She watched the pink-and-blue tableau of romance that was Kitty and the Lord through wistful eyes. Mr. Sardon was looking in the same direction.

"My youngest brother and his wife are the same," he commented softly, his eyes traveling from them to a second young couple. "Marital felicity is a rare gift in these troubled times. I understand."

The lady's skirt billowed out, making her look like a spinning buttercup. Her partner lifted her up by the waist and landed her; they both giggled.

"Penny – that is, Mrs. Sardon, is a former playmate of mine," said Bridget. "She vowed that all males were no better than apes, and she would never be so foolish as to wed one. She appears to have changed her mind."

Mr. Sardon smiled. So he did have a sense of humor.

They watched the colorful speactacle for a while, without saying anything. Lady Bucksworth, the hostess, instantly recognizable with her striking lavender hair, regal demeanor, and Paris gown in the very latest style, was sweeping across the floor with the yellow-haired Dr. Grant, one of London's most eminent physicians. Millicent Bucksworth, her younger sister, was dancing with Wesley Coleridge III, who was not a poet in spite of the name, but an incorrigible dandy. His glossy brown hair, in fact, was even longer than the lady's, and several women had been known to envy it. Even Charles Sardon had found a partner somewhere, another redhead whom Peter did not know. He hoped poor Charles was still sober enough to lead her.

"Do you ever wish," said Miss O'Malley in her soft voice next to him, "That we could hear what some of these people are really thinking?"

Peter snorted. "Certainly not."

"Why not?"

"We should only hear a great deal of unnecessary trivia, petty jealousies and machinations, and ugly things which no one should have to hear. I, for instance, have no wish to know what Charles thinks about Lord Bluecastle."

"Maybe so," said Bridget, frowning thoughtfully, "But then it might be very interestig. You could find out at once whether a new acquaintance liked or disliked you, and know just what to say to make yourself agreeable. I wish I knew _your_ thoughts, Mr. Sardon."

She was blushing again. Peter opened his mouth and, for the second time in his life, abandoned logic and acted completely on impulse.

"Two things, Miss O'Malley. Firstly, that the next person who calls you plain shall find himself on the business end of my rifle."

She gasped and opened her fan to hide her face.

"Secondly, I should very much like to dance with you."

Bridget lowered her fan, slowly. Her face was glowing like a full moon.

"I accept."


	5. Because

Because

_It is because you were my friend,_

_I fought you as the devil fights._

_Whatever fortune God may send,_

_For once I set the world to rights._

_And that was when I thrust you down,_

_And stabbed you twice and twice again,_

_Because you dared take off your crown_

_And be a man like other men._

- "Mortal Combat", by Mary Coleridge, 1896

As a Mew Mew, I've had to do a great deal of fighting. I've been cut, bruised, knocked to the ground, burned, tied up, and even trapped in a dream. But it's one battle that stays with me, that I still dream about at night. Pai-san and I in the sea of Tokyo Bay, with me fighting to get past him and rescue Shirogane-san.

I loved Shirogane-san. I won that fight for him, and saved his life with a Mew Aqua kiss that turned my legs into fins and sent us shooting high up into the sunset sky. But once we emerged from the ocean, I found I was crying. I told Shriogane-san they were tears of joy, but they weren't, at least not entirely I had certainly found what I was looking for, but I'd also lost something I never really had.

Pai-san was always the logical one, with a face that never smiled as he waged his war – or rather, Deep Blue's war. I used to think he was unfeeling, but after that day I never believed it again. I know I touched him. When I asked him to please move aside, when I reminded him that he too had something to protect, I saw the look in his black eyes before he drew his weapon. If my words hadn't touched his heart, he would not have raised his voice before attacking.

When we fought, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. The buoyancy of moving underwater, the speed of our movements, the way we mirrored each other like dancers … Aya and cronies would never have recognized that sea-warrior as Midorikawa Lettuce. I kicked, punched and slapped; he moved to dodge and deflect my blows as smoothly as a panther. Every second, I felt alive.

It was not until later that day, safe with Shirogane-san at the café, that I realized Pai-san must have let us go deliberately. I may be a Mew Mew, but he was a tall, strong man and could have overpowered me easily if he'd tried. I will never know exactly why he did it.

I could have gone back. Once Shirogane-san was in the speedboat with the others, I could have gone back and looked for Pai-san, to talk to him, to demand an explanation. But by the time the idea occurred to me, we were already halfway back to shore. It would have looked strange.

I had to fight him. There was nothing else I could have done to save the man who was so important to all of us. And yet it hurts to remember, more than any injuries I ever received myself.

Because he was a man, and I was a woman. Because we were enemies, and we wasted our chance to be anything more.


	6. Reasonable Beings

Reasonable Beings

Shirogane and Lettuce emerged from the ocean in a spume of glittering water, the evening sun falling on their faces. She felt him beginning to move in her arms; he opened his eyes, coughed, and began treading water opposite her. She relaxed her hold on him, keeping her hands on his arms for steadiness.

"Lettuce … ?"

"Shirogane-san! I'm so glad … " She looked back into those turqoise eyes she had admired for so long with intense relief. She had him. He was alive. Everything was going to be all right.

"Lettuce! Shirogane! Here we are, is everything all right?" Came the happy, but exhausted voices of the team in their nearby speedboat. They hauled up Shirogane first; the ever efficient Keiichiro even pulled out a warm blanket, despite the blonde man's half-hearted grumbles (between sneezing) that he was not made out of glass and would be just fine. Next, Zakuro and Ichigo, the strongest of the girls, reached out their hands to Lettuce in the water.

"Grab on, Lettuce," said Ichigo, smiling. "You must be exhausted."

Lettuce looked up at the welcoming group in the boat, then down into the wild blue depths of the ocean. Her heart was still beating fast; her porpoise tail was still in evidence, proving that the turbulent emotions which had gripped her underneath the surface were still there. She thought of a pale, stormy face, last seen watching her over Shirogane's shoulder. A muscular arm raised to block her, which she had swept aside as lightly as a feather. Surely she wasn't that strong, even as a Mew Mew? Surely being alone with a sworn enemy should have cost her more than this?

Something was strange. And her scientific, logical mind insisted on finding out what.

"Can you wait for me?" she asked, on impulse. "I … I still have some unfinished business down there."

"Not another Chimera?" asked Keiichiro, looking alarmed. "The scans haven't shown any – "

"No, it's not that. Please wait for me, everyone! If I'm not back in twenty minutes – " She swallowed hard. "Then go back home. I'm sorry. I have to do this!"

And with a flick of her powerful tail, ignoring the alarmed exclamations of her friends, she was gone.

_Forgive me,_ she thought ruefully, arrowing downward in the same direction she had come before. _But this is the one chance I've been waiting for._

Pai was just about to teleport away when she caught up to him, in that halfway state where the water around him rippled like a pond with a stone in it.

"Pai-san!"

He re-materialized and raised one fan in front of him like a sword.

"What do you want, Mew Lettuce?

"I need to talk to you." She stopped, facing him in as upright a position as she could manage with a tail that was meant to be horizontal.

"I have no desire to talk to you. Either defend yourself or leave."

Lettuce, normally so shy about speaking to strangers, found herself so filled to the brim with hope, fear, anxiety and something else fizzing inside her that she said the first thing on her mind.

"How large is your species' population?"

Pai's eyes widened. Whatever he had expected from her, it was not this. He had looked just as thunderstruck for a moment when she had reminded him that, like herself fighting for Shirogane, he had loved ones to protect.

"Why?" he snapped.

"Earth's a big planet, Pai-san. There are plenty of uninhabited areas. Isn't there room enough for both our races?"

The awe in his face disappeared as quickly as it had come. It was like watching a door slam.

"Whatever gave you a foolish idea like that?" he asked disdainfully.

The old Midorikawa Lettuce would have cringed and fled. But Mew Lettuce was made of sterner stuff than that.

"The Blue Knight nearly killed Kish-san," she reminded him, her soft voice carrying clearly. "Pudding could have suffocated in your tunnel experiment last week. Neither of us wants to see our friends hurt anymore."

Pai lowered his eyes briefly as she mentioned Kish, but when he looked back at her, they were black as thunderclouds in his white face.

"What would you have us do then, Mew Lettuce? Live on the charity of your human governments like so many beggars? Put ourselves on display for your scientists to gawk at?"

"Humans aren't as intolerant as you think!" she shot back, indignation adding to the fizzy rush inside her transformed body. "Pudding calls Taruto-san her friend. Ichigo-san almost cried out of compassion when she saw the data on your planet's living conditions. And I … I admire you."

Pai's eyes, which were really a deep purple rather than black, seemed to settle and soften as she spoke. He lowered his fan. They were two steps closer to each other, face to face. How had that happened? Fired up by her speech, she must have swum closer without even realizing.

"You … _admire _me?" he asked incredulously.

"Y-your people, I mean," she hurried to say, holding up her hands. "You've accomplished so much – teleportation, faster-than-light space travel, even genetic engineering – and all under such terrible conditions. We could learn from each other. Exchange data, you know, like what you were after in the city library a few months ago. But without, you know, the water fleas and general destruction. Sorry. I'm rambling."

"Most illogical," said Pai. "You have every reason to hate us, and yet … "

He shook his head. "You, Mew Lettuce, are a being unlike any I have encountered before."

Lettuce, unsure of whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, decided to pass it by.

"Your Chimera Animae," she argued instead, "They take up energy, don't they? They use up your resources?"

"Indeed." Pai nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"Beause you don't seem to be a people that can afford creating things and setting them loose to be destroyed by us over and over. Isn't that a waste?"

"A necessary expenditure," Pai snapped.

"If you contacted the Japanese government," said Lettuce, holding out her hands in a welcoming gesture, "Or better yet, the American one, because they're wealthier and have never heard of you – then taking care of settlements for your people would be _their_ job. They have money, land and resources to spare. And it wouldn't be charity; you could introduce them to your technology in return. We could help each other."

Pai's hand reached toward hers for the briefest moment, until he clenched his fist.

"Deep Blue-sama will never consent," he murmured. "Your proposal sounds … reasonable … but Deep Blue-sama is our master. Do you understand, Mew Lettuce? We must follow him."

The pain and regret in his voice were clear, and it touched her heart.

"But surely he's a reasonable being! Can't you talk to him?"

Pai-san looked back at her silently for a while, his mouth drawn tight. She could sense an inner struggle behind that implacable façade.

"You risk your life merely by speaking to me," he said finally. "Here you are, alone, against a taller, stronger and more experienced fighter. I could kill you, Mew Lettuce. I could snap your neck with my bare hands."

"But you haven't." Ignoring the shiver running down her spine, which was not entirely due to fear, she flicked her tail and drew herself up straighter. "You let me go, Pai-san. Shirogane-san and his Mew Aqua bottle as well. I believe you're much kinder than you pretend to be."

She smiled, feeling bouyantly confident as a hint of pink appeared on Pai's face and at the tips of his pointed ears. She had made him blush.

"You do not know me, Mew Lettuce," he warned, but his air of menace did not fool her a bit.

"On the contrary, Pai-san. I feel like I've known you all my life."

He looked down at the fan still held in his right hand, then back at her. He held it up and opened his mouth, but his hand froze in mid-gesture. With an inaudible mutter, he tucked the weapon into his shirt.

"Very well," he said brusquely. "We will meet with the leaders of the Mew Project. Mew Lettuce … I … request permission to teleport you to your boat."

He held out both hands.

"All right," said Lettuce, her heart thumping wildly. She would be the second human to be teleported, after Pudding. How did it feel? Was it safe?

Pai approached her and, after hovering for a few seconds with uncharacteristic awkwardness, scooped her up bridal-style. She gasped.

"Have no fear," he said. "It is quite safe."

She hid her face in his broad shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them, feeling dizzy and slightly ill, she was floating just above the still anchored speedboat, held securely in Pai's arms. She must have lost her grip on her transformation, or perhaps it had simply run out of power, because she was shivering in a soaked school jacket and two heavy braids were hanging from her head.

The Mew Mews erupted in outrage as soon as they saw what looked suspiciously like a hostage situation..

"Let her go!" Zakuro raised her whip. Mint launched herself into the air.

"No, no, it's all right!" Lettuce called before a fight could break out. "Pai-san and I were just talking. He's here to negotiate a truce!"

"You _what_?" snapped Shirogane, ignoring Keiichiro's placatory hand on his arm.

"How can you be sure we're not walking into a trap?" asked Zakuro. Mint landed back on the boat and crossed her arms, glaring.

But Pudding tossed her Pudding Ring into the air and caught it again, letting the bells ring out in tune with her delighted laughter.

"A truce? Awesome! Now Taru-taru and Pudding can really be friends, na no da!"

"Way to go, Lettuce!" called Ichigo, smiling, with a meaningful wink as she registered the position in which Lettuce was being carried.

Keiichiro clinched the matter. He stood up from his copilot's seat, gave Shirogane a final 'behave-yourself' look, and swept into a European bow, hand on his heart.

"Welcome aboard, Pai-san."


	7. Heart of Glass

Heart of Glass

_Oh, you wake emotions I could never forget,_

_for I can see into your heart of glass._

_I recognize you as you always were,_

_for I can see into your heart of glass._

- Munchner Freiheit, "Herz aus Glas" (translated by Laura Schiller)

The shop was a European-style half-timbered house with a wooden sign painted in green letters swinging by the door: 'Lettuce & Ayano's Doll Boutique'. It was twilight, and it was raining. Pai frowned up at the sign before entering; the chime of bells greeted him as he opened the door.

The inside of the store was suffused with warm golden light from several lamps. Plush toys of every description sat on the shelves: animals, clothed and unclothed, male and female dolls with every color hair, eyes, and fashion sense imaginable; and mythical creatures that were neither one nor the other. Pai noticed a mermaid with a sparkling green tail and soft green silk hair; a girl in pink with black cat ears; a fluffy monkey in a yellow dress and boots, a blue-haired lady posed in a miniature wicker chair with a tiny tea service laid out next to her; and a purple-haired doll, slimmer than the others, who somehow managed to look quite imposing in spite of the plush.

At the counter stood Midorikawa Lettuce herself, dressed in a light blue sweater and a long, navy blue skirt. Her green hair had darkened a little over the years, but the two braids with their white ribbons were still the same. Her blue eyes behind their glasses looked as soft and kind as ever. Pai took all this in at a glance just before Lettuce noticed him.

"May I help you ... sir ... ?"

Her voice trailed off as they met each other's eyes.

Pai froze. He had been anticipating this moment for so long; the moment he could finally meet her on peaceful ground and speak to her as a fellow sentient being instead of an enemy. And now that he was here, he had not the slightest idea of what to say.

"Pai-san!" She exclaimed, her face turning pink. She stepped out from behind the counter and hurried over to him, her hands outstretched. "We got your transmission at the Cafe, but - I didn't think you were coming _here._ How _are_ you? And Taruto-san, and Kish-san? And how's your homeworld? Please, do sit down. I was about to close the shop anyway."

Such warm hospitality was quite beyond anything Pai had expected. He sat down on a nearby couch as Lettuce went to change the 'open' sign to 'closed'. She smoothed her hair a little in front of the reflective window, then sat down.

"In answer to your inquiries," said Pai, "Taruto came with me. At this moment, he is being taught hide-and-seek by Fong Pudding and her enthusiastic quadruplet brothers. Kish remained behind on our homeworld, which is thriving thanks to your donation of Mew Aqua six years ago."

"That's wonderful!" Lettuce smiled. "But you still haven't told me how you are."

He watched her, unable to come up with a reply that was both truthful and polite. _How am I? I have been missing you like a severed limb for six years. I believe I am in love with you, and a most confounded nuisance it is, too. Why else would I have travelled all the way back here, instead of remaining on my own planet where I belong? _

"Fine," he said brusquely.

To change the subject, he informed her of the thing which had been nagging at his mind ever since he had first heard of her shop.

"Midorikawa-san ... "

"Yes, Pai-san?"

"How can you work for a thief who plagiarized your design?"

Lettuce blinked in confusion for a moment, then her eyes widened. "You - you mean Ayano-san? How do you even know about that?"

"Kish. He ... targeted your exhibition with a Chimera Anima. I read his report."

"Oh." Lettuce, perhaps tellingly, did not comment on the strangeness of Pai's remembering that detail after six years. "Well, actually, I suppose we have Kish-san to thank for that. You see, poor Ayano-san was so frightened by his Chimera that I couldn't hold a grudge anymore. She gave me her sincere apology and promised it would never happen again. So, since we do make a good team, she decided to take me on as her business partner. And I embroider my initials on every doll I make." She winked.

"Clever."

"Why, thank you."

She had always been this way, he remembered. Impossibly kind, even towards himself, an enemy. She had argued for peace between their races; he, stubbornly devoted to his Deep Blue-sama, had refused to listen until it was almost too late. Dying for her in the end had been an impulse decsion, the first time he had ever listened to his heart rather than his intellect.

"Your enterprise appears to be successful," he said, looking around the shop. "Congratulations."

Lettuce nodded.

The silence was getting more awkward by the second. Pai drummed his fingers on the armrest of the couch, caught himself, and stopped.

"Midorikawa-san, I have come here for a purpose ... It is difficult to tell you ... "

"I-it's all right." She brushed a strand of hair out of her face. He found his own hand itching to do that for her.

"But first, I need to know - " He turned towards her with all the cool determination he could muster. "Are you still mated to the scientist Shirogane?"

"_Pai-san!_" If Lettuce had been pink before, she was positively crimson now. "That - that's a very personal question! In my culture, it's not considered polite to ask a stranger that! Except," she added ruefully, "I suppose we're not exactly strangers, are we?"

"No." No, it was surprising how well two long-term adversaries could get to know each other. Her defense, for instance, had always been stronger than her offense. Especially when she had something to hide.

"If I have offended you, Midorikawa-san, I apologize," he said, with the sort of nod that passed for a bow when you were sitting, "But I wish you would oblige me with an answer anyway." A subtle attack.

"Okay." Lettuce shrugged, the flush on her face as bright as ever. Her shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she was that timid little creature in the library again - the one he had seen only briefly before she transformed. "If you insist ... nothing ever happened between Shirogane-san and me. What you saw ... um, in the water ... was the closest I ever got to him. I'm just not his type, apparently. He's attracted to lively redheads." She smiled wryly, and the confident woman was back.

Pai was intensely relieved. One obstacle down, at least. It must have shown on his face, because Lettuce's blue eyes lit up like a summer sky as she looked up at him.

"Is there anyone else?" he asked.

She shook her head. Before losing his nerve, Pai decided to take that as an opening and move in for the kill. He placed one hand on her left cheek, turned her face closer to his, and kissed her.

He had meant for it to be quick, but once the soft skin of her lips met his, he found he couldn't move away for what felt like a small eternity. The scent of her. Her warm breath. The sound of her heart beating so close to his.

When they broke apart, her spectacles were fogged. The image made him smile despite himself as she blinked, giggled, removed them, and began to polish them with a corner of her skirt.

"This is another thing our races have in common, is it not?" he inquired, just to make sure he hadn't misunderstood.

She held up her glasses to the light, checking if they were transparent again.

"Midorikawa-san?"

She jumped. "Oh, I'm sorry ... it's just, this is rather sudden. Usually we'd go on a date first, you know?"

"Date. A social outing between two people. What should we do on such an occasion?"

His scientific curiosity arose. Here was a perfect opportunity to immerse himself in an alien culture, and Lettuce would be his guide.

"Oh, I know a good place. Quiet, comfortable, and they make the best looseleaf tea - do you know what tea is?"

"A most soothing beverage. I tried it on occasion when I was last here."

"Great." She stood up, smoothed the elegant folds of her skirt, and held out her hand to him. "Shall we?"

She had always been this way. His people had a word for it: 'heart of glass', meaning someone so open and guileless that every emotion shone through their eyes like the lamplight through those spectacles. Some people (including himself, on occasion) used it as a term of contempt, because when your life is a struggle for survival, why make yourself vulnerable? Yet it was by doing precisely that - opening her heart to the enemy - that Lettuce had conquered him. And he loved her for it.

He stood up, took her hand and, according to the data he had gathered on human courtship, tucked it under his arm. He opened the door for her. The rain had stopped, leaving puddles reflecting the white glow of the streetlamps and the lit storefronts under a velvety night sky.


	8. Sandcastle

Sandcastle

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Tokyo Mew Mew

Copyright: Reiko Yoshida, Mia Ikumi

_(Author's Note: This is an alternate universe where thre three aliens are human and live in the same neighborhood as the Mew ages are left to the reader's discretion. The prompt was suggested by __**True Colors**__ during her __**Literary Kryptonite**__ challenge.)_

"That's not the way to do it."

Lettuce looked up. The boy who had spoken was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, looking down with a superior frown at the sandcastle she was trying to build. She knew him by sight, and from the fact that his younger brother was in her class. He was a few years older, pale and wiry, his ankles peeking out of his gray uniform pants. His purple hair was tied back in a ponytail; his dark eyes might have been nice, she thought, if he didn't have that stuck-up look on his face.

"How _should_ I do it, then?" she shot back, tossing a short green pigtail over one shoulder to indicate her annoyance.

Unfazed, the boy knelt down next to her, took her plastic shovel, and began digging a trench around the pile of sand she had built up.

"This is called a moat, see?" he explained. "So if the castle gets attacked, the enemy can't get in."

"What enemy?"

He shrugged. "Anyone. That's what castles are for, didn't you know? To protect the important leaders who live there. If this were a real castle in the Middle Ages, there's be archers on the walls, soldiers at the gates, boiling oil ready to pour down … "

Boiling oil? Lettuce suppressed a shudder, not wanting the older boy to consider her a 'scaredy-cat'. "But with that moat around it," she argued instead, "_Nobody_ can get in. No enemies, but no friends either. Don't fairytale castles have sort of wooden bridge things that you can lower across?"

"A drawbridge?" The boy looked down at the castle, then back at her. He smiled slightly, causing a remarkable transformation in a face which, seconds before, had resembled a little old man's.

"You mean like this." He picked up a twig which had fallen from the tree shadowing the sandbox and laid it across.

"Perfect." She beamed, pretending to raise and lower the drawbridge several times. "It should be flat, of course, but we can still pretend it is."

"You're much less silly than other girls," he noted gravely, as if bestowing a compliment.

"And you're much less of a jerk than your brother."

The boy tugged on his ponytail, looking embarrassed. "So you know Kishu?"

"Yes. I'm friends with Ichigo-chan."

That statement appeared to say it all. The boy grimaced.

"So _you're_ the girl who dumped lemonade on him last week. He came home all dripping wet and I had to clean him up before Mother came home. Why did you do it?"

"He was mean to Ichigo-chan. He stole her Hello Kitty doll and told her he'd rip Kitty's head off unless she agreed to be his girlfriend. We're too young to be anybody's girlfriends, I think, especially not to a boy like that. Please, Senpai, _can't_ you get him to leave us alone?"

The boy's mouth turned down grimly, again making him look older than his age. "I try, but he won't listen. Since our baby brother was born, Kishu's been acting like a complete brat. I don't know what to do with him."

Lettuce pondered the problem seriously. So they had a baby in the family, did they? She had her share of experience in that area, at least.

"I've got a little brother too," she confided. "Uri. He's awfully cute, but you need to watch him _all – the – time_, otherwise he'll stuff peas up his nose and eat plastic and bump into tables and all sorts of stuff."

The boy rolled his eyes in sympathy, having no doubt been through that with baby Kishu himself.

"We're trying to get him potty-trained too, which is pretty gross 'cause sometimes he tips over the potty or – anyway, Uri needs a _lot_ of looking after. So when I've got a problem, Mama and Papa can't always listen. Maybe Kishu-san is just lonely."

"Lonely … " From the way the boy said the word – quietly, looking up into the sunbeams filtered through the tree branches above them, Lettuce wondered if he wasn't a bit lonely himself.

"Maybe," he said after a long pause, turning back to survey her in that quizzical way. He looked as if she were a puzzle he couldn't quite make out.

"But you sound like you feel sorry for him and understand him, even though he's been bullying your friend. How can you do that?"

It was Lettuce's turn to shrug and look modest, which she considered only fair, considering his superior knowledge of sandcastle defense. "I just can."

"Thank you for your advice, er … what's your name?"

"Lettuce."

"My name is Pai. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lettuce-san."

Her delighted giggle seemed to irritate him. "What's so funny? Father says I should always address someone like that when we've just met."

"I've never been called _–san_ in my life!" she confessed. "At least not with a straight face. It sounds so grown-up and important, I really like it. Will you be here tomorrow, _Pai-san_?"

Pai smiled, wider this time, his purple eyes creased into half-moons. "I will. Same time. But for now, I don't need to go home until five o'clock. We need a flagpole for that sandcastle of yours, and towers and battlements and an outside wall … "

Lettuce agreed, and they spent a golden afternoon turning an ordinary sandbox in a park into their own magical kingdom. She had never been so sorry to leave a place, nor so happy to have made a brand new friend.


	9. Someone To Protect

Someone To Protect

"Please get out of my way," Mew Lettuce pleads, floating before me in the water, sounding far too polite for an enemy as usual. Her hands are clasped, her green hair waving like seaweed, her green eyes wide as a child's.

"If I refuse, will you kill me?" I reply, challenging her.

"Please … I only want to save him." She looks over my shoulder at the limp form of her human comrade, whose Mew Aqua bottle shines like an underwater star. "Don't _you_ have someone to protect?" she asks.

Images rise unbidden in my mind. Images of the underground shelters my people built centuries ago, to protect themselves from the blizzards and earthquakes of our godforsaken planet. The spare, functional homes we live in, so different from the bright plastic wastefulness of Tokyo, reminding us every day to devote our energy to survival and not decoration. I see Kisshu and Taruto, my brothers and comrades-in-arms, sitting around the table with our parents and me. I see our mother's face, hard and worn as an ancient statue, her soft green hair turned prematurely gray and her black eyes dull as iron. The way she looked when Father's remains were brought back from his last hunting expedition.

I had asked to go with him that day. He had told me I ought to concentrate on my studies instead, saying that my scientific skills would be more useful to society than his ability to aim a phase pistol. But hacking into a computer or analyzing DNA would not have stopped the ice-cat from tearing my father to pieces.

That was the night we first heard the Call, my brothers and I. The night we heard Deep Blue-sama speak to us. Many of our species have claimed to sense him when they enter the telepathic plane, but we had not believed until that night. _Come to me,_ he whispered. _I will lead you to the land I promised, to the green Earth of your ancestors. Find me and reclaim what has been lost._

Kisshu and Taruto jumped on the idea right away. They wanted adventure, discovery; a change from what they perceived as the monotony of their lives. As for me, Deep Blue-sama's Call sounded like salvation – a chance for my people to escape the hell they lived in, a chance for us to live in the sunlight, eat fresh fruit and vegetables all year long, take the leisure from our struggle for survival to be the society of artists, scientists and explorers we were meant to be. A chance for Mother to smile again. I would have faced an army single-handedly for that alone.

We argued with her for hours before she let us go. We were too young, Taruto especially; if Deep Blue-sama were a loving god, as we had been taught, he would never send three children to invade a planet; we should think of her – never mind that we _do_ think of her. What else would we be fighting for? The last sound we heard before leaving home was her shout: _If you die, I'll never forgive you! So come back safely, do you hear?_

Mew Lettuce is right, damn her. We do have people to protect. Our loyalty was forged by suffering beyond anything she can imagine – she who has never known cold, or hunger, or incurable disease. If I let her go today, she will go home to a hot meal, a soft pillow, her mother's smiling face across the kitchen table, her innocence untarnished. She will never understand why we fight, and I don't even want her to. I can bear her hatred if I must, but never her pity.

"You have no right," I tell her, "To compare us to you foolish humans!"

And with that thought in mind, I attack.


	10. The Bento

The Bento

In hindsight, Pai reflected, sending water flea chimeras to the library had been an ill-advised start to his campaign. The information they had gathered by absorbing the books was not only fragmented and mostly useless, but the scene they had caused was downright embarrassing. He wanted to wage war, not engage in common vandalism. And as for gathering data, there were much more efficient ways of doing that.

Such as hacking into the library computer at midnight, for instance.

He surveyed the shadowy room, his superior Cyniclon eyesight allowing him to see as clearly as in daylight. It surprised him how much this place resembled the Database in his home city: the muted browns and grays, the smell of dust and old paper, the scholarly hush that had been so welcome to a boy escaping from his raucous younger brothers. But there, the similarities ended: instead of metal, the shelves were made of wood; the books included not only precious antiques, but new, disposable paperbacks (_As if I needed another reminder that these humans take their abundant flora shamefully for granted!_) and there was _one_ computer, whose capabilities (and security protocols) Pai considered downright primitive.

He really was lightyears from home.

Shutting down the computer once his work was done, he stood up and began to walk among the shelves. _Science. History. Biography. Literary Fiction. Romance. Mystery. Children/Young Adults. _A veritable treasure trove of alien culture, if he were interested. The writing was unfamiliar, but the universal translator implanted in his brain rendered it all into his own language, just as it did spoken words. How many books could he take before the humans realized they were missing? And why couldn't the species have been just a few rungs lower on the evolutionary ladder? It wasn't easy to despise a race which evidently valued knowledge and creativity almost as much as his own people did.

He ended up with a whole stack of books, which he carried to one of the tables. He had eight hours left until the library re-opened, which was plenty of time to skim the indexes and choose what he wanted to take, then teleport back to his own dimension before his brothers even woke up. Just as he sat down, however, he caught sight of something peculiar on the seat next to him: a box wrapped in red cloth, clearly forgotten by one of the customers.

Pai's curiosity, both his greatest strength and weakness, got the better of him. He untied the knot and opened the box.

It was divided into four neat compartments: a large one containing sticky white grains (with an unfamiliar pink symbol drawn in food coloring) and three smaller ones containing what he guessed was meat and vegetables. It smelled delicious, even after several hours left behind. Pai picked up a chunk of the meat, sniffed it, and almost took a bite before putting it down again. After all, it might not even agree with his physiology.

_But what a criminal waste! Deep Blue-sama, give me strength,_ he thought, gritting his teeth. _Either these humans are worse than we thought, or whoever did this was severely distracted ... _

By a swarm of giant water fleas, for instance. In which case, he couldn't blame the culprit after all.

Gathering up the soft red cloth, he saw an envelope fall out of it. It was sealed with the same symbol that decorated the rice: two symmetrical, curving lines that met in a point, like an arrowhead. What could it mean?

The letter inside the envelope, written with red ink in tiny, precise characters, read:

_Edomurasaki-san,_

_I made this in the hope of showing you just how much our conversations have meant to me. When we first met, your love of reading made me notice you. Wen we spoke, your wisdom and maturity earned my respect. And when you gave me that beautiful book and said what you did about my smile, your kindness won my heart._

_I know you might not feel the same, all things considered, but please accept this anyway, as it was made with the most sincere intentions._

_Yours truly,_

_Midorikawa Lettuce_

_PS.: You were right, "Sunset in Tahiti" is my favorite._

Pai put the letter down on the table, feeling uneasy. He hadn't realized it would be something so personal. How strange, to think of these aliens writing love notes and giving gifts. He hadn't expected them to be so … real.

_Don't be silly. Of course they have their mating rituals, just like any other sentient species. That still doesn't mean they have the right to ruin our ancestral homeworld._

Still, he lingered over the note one more time. The name "Lettuce" sounded familiar, like an itch in the back of his mind. Where had he heard it before?

_"You're the only one who's immune! Mew Lettuce, now!"_

_"Ribbon Lettuce Rush!"_

Could it be … ?

Memories of Mew Lettuce, the only one among that pathetic bunch to resist the hypnotic effect of the water fleas reading a history text, sprang to mind with surprising vividness. Her shimmering green corset and knee-high boots. The defiant way she turned to face him, eyes narrowed, silencing the water fleas with one powerful jet of water conjured from the instruments in her hands. The way her single braid whirled when she moved.

At first glance, the hairstyle had misled him into taking her for the leader of the group, since on his planet, one braid instead of two signified adulthood. But of course, it was illogical to expect humans to follow the same cultural customs – and besides, it was the pink-haired one who had struck the final blow.

The forgotten box had to be hers; the coincidence of two people with the same name, attending the same rather small library on the same day, was almost statistically impossible. He tucked the letter into his trouser pocket and picked up the box.

_One can never know too much about one's opponent,_ he justified to himself. The other voice, whispering deep in the back of his mind, he chose to ignore.

_Whoever Edomurasaki-san may be, _it whispered,_ he is a fool not to accept her gift._


End file.
